


French Toast

by crystalusagi



Series: Saiyuki Police AU [1]
Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalusagi/pseuds/crystalusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Would you like some coffee?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Toast

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series of drabbles that I wrote for various timed/freewriting prompts, mostly from the saiyuki_time community on LJ. Hakki and Gojyo are cops.

Gojyo was confused. ”I thought you said you wanted coffee.” 

Across from him, Hakkai smiled as he cut very precisely into a slice of syrup-smothered French toast. It crackled a little in protest. ”I have that too,” he said, eyes flitting to the mug sitting to the side of his plate for a second before fixing determinedly back onto the toast. ”But it’s nice to indulge in something sweet once in a while, isn’t it?” 

Well, it was still coffee. He didn’t have to tell anyone he was _brunching_ with his new partner. ”Yeah, ‘s pose so.” Hakkai hummed contentedly in reply. 

They’d been partners for three days now. Gojyo still couldn’t really reconcile the quirky, easy-going guy before him with the man who had slipped his gun into a perp’s mouth and threatened to “be very clumsy” if he wasn’t told exactly what he wanted. It really was the quiet ones you had to worry about. 

“Are you sure you won’t order anything as well?” Hakkai asked him, pointing a fork almost accusingly at Gojyo’s side of the table. The fork dripped a glob of syrup right on the edge of Hakkai’s plate where it had been pristine and white. Gojyo felt himself shrug. 

“Sure, why not? That French toast any good?” 

Hakkai gave it more consideration than Gojyo thought it warranted. He seemed to consider the weirdest things like they were of great importance; he also treated important things—such as police procedures—like they were the crayon-scribbled suggestions of a three-year old. Which was fine with Gojyo. He didn’t think much of the procedures himself. 

“It is not as good as my sister’s, but it is passable.” 

“Your sister makes you breakfast?” That was nice. Jien cooked, but he never made things like French toast or pancakes—they were too domestic or something. 

Hakkai’s smile faltered a little bit. ”No, she’s dead now. But when she was alive she used to make them for me every Saturday.” Then his smile slid into something more polite as his eye caught the waitress coming toward them. ”My partner would like some of this excellent French toast.” 

Gojyo, happy for the distraction—and for that look of sudden loss going out of Hakkai’s eyes—also beamed at the waitress. ”Uh—yeah. More coffee, too. Thanks.”


End file.
